


Flying Kites

by potatofuzz



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Dave and his memories, Post-Scratch, Sadstuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-31
Updated: 2011-12-31
Packaged: 2017-10-28 14:44:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/308979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/potatofuzz/pseuds/potatofuzz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He was looking out the window again.</p><p>When I looked up at his face I could tell he was somewhere else.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flying Kites

**Author's Note:**

> Post-Scratch Dave being depressed because memories. Dirk's POV.

He was looking out the window again. Out of all the things I didn’t quite understand about my brother, which actually wasn’t much, the fact that he, without fail, would just endlessly gaze on those especially windy days in April baffled me most of all. Just April though. Any other month in the year and the weather could mean less to him than whether or not the butter had completely melted on his toast.

It wasn’t a spectacular view or anything. There weren’t any trees in our neighborhood to whip around dramatically or old houses to uproot. It wasn’t as if a twister would suddenly ground itself and wreak havoc on the apartment complexes. Yet he still watched. Sometimes he would even take his glasses off, holding them, twiddling them. Just to study the wind.

I clasped the note and package in my hands, approaching my brother. He didn’t move, still steadily staring out the kitchen window. I placed my bestowal atop the counter next to him. He didn’t move again, and when I looked up at his face I could tell he was somewhere else. It almost seemed as if he was off, adventuring in another universe. Improbable. Not impossible.

With that I backed away and let my brother be. He’d see my gift eventually. I proceeded out into the hallway, pale and dim, and up the ever-precariously steep staircase. As I opened the door to the roof I felt the wind he had been watching, and it was certainly more potent than I had expected. It smelled of stone and snow, perhaps what wind from the mountains would smell like if I ever had the chance to visit some. I frowned slightly at the lack of pigeons about. I stood for a while, trying to catch a wisp of what my brother felt.

The door opened behind me. He had put his glasses back on and was grasping the kite in one hand. He found it. He nodded a ‘sup’ to me, one of true brotherly acceptance. He strode silently to the edge of the roof, and I could see his persona changing as he took in the breeze as I had done in the previous minutes. Except, he wasn’t searching in it as I had been, he was living it. It instantly meant something to him. I could see it in his posture. His spine straightened, head held high. He looked almost younger, as if he was walking through a living memory. I almost felt awkward watching this. Almost, but not quite. It was as if I was somewhere I shouldn’t have been, as if I was in the place I had seen in his eyes before. The wind encased us in the half-reality. Across dimensions. In a new universe altogether.

The kite caught on the first gust of wind that offered itself, rising up chaotically. I was surprised by my brother’s gratefulness towards the piece of cloth I had given him. He let his trance carry him as the kite ascended, scraping against the sunlight, then descending back into our world, threatening to crash against the concrete. The wind became stronger, ribbons of it cascading against us, and yet he stayed. He stood there for hours in that world of his, right there on the edge of the roof, letting the kite pull him further in. I stayed too. Until the wind died down.

He bundled the kite up, gently twining the string around it. He stood, turned, and simply walked to me, as casually and coolly as always. Placing the gift back into my hands, he ruffled my hair.

“thanks lil’ bro”


End file.
